To the North of Katmandu
there's tiny children sniffing glue
like losers in a Michael Winner script
it's got a BMX certificate
And somewhere in the opening shots
by the wino in the cardboard box
a madman cornered by police
puts a Smith and Wesson between his teeth
And meanwhile in the butcher's shop
another turkey gets the chop
outside there's a blazing sun
it's a perfect day to drop the bomb